


Nightmares

by jinglingvoid



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Nightmares, some form of self help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 22:56:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12691890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinglingvoid/pseuds/jinglingvoid
Summary: There aren't many things that keep The Riddler up... but when there are, the dreams tend to flit around his brain like a loop.





	Nightmares

He had often dreamed of falling. It wasn’t the quick monument until his brains splattered on the sidewalk either.  
It was slow and he was always reaching for something that was just outside his grasp and yet, he’d be damned if he could work out what.  
At least he hadn’t awoken screaming.  
The sheets were stained and reeked of sweat as he scrubbed viciously at his eyes. He checked the small grimy mirror. Nothing out of the ordinary; his eyes still looked the same, a few dark patches of stubble congregated on his chin. Even his smile was shaken.

 

“Bloody hell.” He hissed and wiped the last entrails of sweat from his forehead and collapsed in the cot.  
He must’ve fallen asleep again as the next thing he knew his cell door was banged open and a guard poked his head through the door.

 

“Ngyma. Breakfast is ready.” said the guard, almost a snarl as ed propped himself upwards barely registering the command.  
“Ah, officer. what can I do for you today?” he smiled. “Are you stuck on your crossword? my, my!”  
“Cut the crap.” came the clipped reply. “You’re due therapy straight after. I don’t know why they even offer sessions. You bastards never change.”  
“Five minutes alone is all I’m asking.” Edward yawned and stretched his aching limbs. When the door was closed and proper, he inspected the latch and saw the shadow of the officer through the cracks.

The ugly orange pyjamas he’d borrowed from the last pile in the laundry room now lay in a pile. His hands shook as he scrapped off of the last night’s stubble with a small disposable razor which was then to be handed back to the guard.The bags were already ballooning under his blue eyes, causing him to look comically like a sloth.

Once the ritual was complete and the green suit applied with as much care as polishing a new trophy, the riddler emerged and dropped the wet razor right into the guard’s palm not caring if it nicked him in the process.  
Breakfast was, as usual, a miserable affair as the guard manhandled him through the heavy doors. Everyone seemed to be fighting, talking or making jokes. Very little people paid him attention and the ones that did was meant with a steely frown. They must have found out about his little ‘problem’ with what the rumour mill spreading.  
Although, it had its advantages.  
Last week he’d participated in how long it would take the Joker to be reincarcerated. He’d lost by five days.  
Eggs and bacon were shoved hastily into his mouth. The only one who he bothered to sit next to was the formerly esteemed Professor Crane.  
“Jonathon, you seem positively deathly.” he mused between bites.~

A sigh rattled out from the other man’s lips. “How many times have I told you to stick to your inane riddles than puns?”  
“If I were to count it would fill novels. I merely came to ask you a question.”  
“Yes?” said Jonathon, eyebrows raised. It was rare that Edward came for advice and even rarer to admit he had a problem. He’d seen many like him but.. there was something pitiful about this man who looked like he could barely cope without the medication.

 

“How do you prevent falling? I assume you’ve read several studies of dreams.”  
“Of course.” Crane butted in, scraping his fork across his plate distractedly. “It depends on nature. Are you falling from a great height like say a building or is it something else?”  
“There are no buildings I’m afraid. Only darkness and some voices. I think I heard my mother once or twice.”  
“Hn. Then talk to your therapist.”  
“Crane, you and me both know that this place is a joke. Why talk to a woman who probably sees everyone as a charity case than a real person? What am I falling from? Is it space or.. oblivion?”

 

“It seems like you fear the loss of control. The empty space could be from fearing the unknown, the darkest depths of the human mind.”  
“Thank you, Doctor Phil,” said Edward with a roll of his eyes yet he couldn’t help but smile. His shoulders felt like a weight lifted from his shoulders.  
“Edward-”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this story. It means a lot to me that you'd stumble upon my works and I wish you the best in all your endevaours.


End file.
